


Thanks for All the Fish

by Meadow Lion (Meadow_Lion)



Category: Invisible Man (TV 2000)
Genre: Co-workers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-09
Updated: 2006-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Lion/pseuds/Meadow%20Lion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partners do for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks for All the Fish

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this post-series story as a farewell to the FawkesyHobbesy Yahoo! listserve when it was about to close. The fiction quoted within mine can be found in Roald Dahl's indispensible collection [The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More](http://www.roalddahlfans.com/books/wond.php), and my title comes from a song in _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. [](http://out-there.livejournal.com/profile)[**out_there**](http://out-there.livejournal.com/) handled beta duty with aplomb, on a multiplicity of versions.

_In his story "The Hitchhiker," author Roald Dahl described a character with "fantastic fingers." This fingersmith could steal anything, anywhere, without anybody being the wiser. Me, I was never that great. I've been caught, more than once, and no one would think that much of my fingers. Or they wouldn't have, before I got partnered with Bobby Hobbes._

~

Darien has lost track of how many times Bobby has saved his life. It isn't that he takes the rescues for granted. It's just that Darien has saved Bobby's life a hell of a lot, too, and knows by now that they'll be there for each other every time. They don't even have to thank each other anymore. Darien looks at Bobby, Bobby looks at Darien, they nod, and they're good.

One Friday, they go on a mission. It doesn't seem that bad until the end, and even then, when a bunch of goggled bad guys get the drop on Darien and try to use him for target practice, it's not that big a deal. Bobby saves his ass. Claire patches up the deep scores along Darien's left cheek and right shoulder where some lucky bullets grazed him. The Agency wins. Rah, rah.

When they finish debriefing with the Official that evening, Darien tries to catch Bobby's eye for the usual exchange -- and Bobby turns and heads outside.

"Hey, Hobbes!" Darien's longer legs help him catch up, but Bobby keeps going.

"I'll see you Monday, Fawkes," he says, climbing into Golda. Then he's gone.

Darien stands there in Bobby's parking space watching the van shrink, until it occurs to him that he could go after Bobby in his own car. So he does.

Bobby is already inside his apartment by the time Darien gets there. Luckily an elderly black woman leaves the building pretty soon after that; Darien might've held the buzzer all night otherwise. He jogs up the stairs and makes some more noise, pounding his left fist on Bobby's door.

"Hobbes, it's me!"

Bobby shouts from the other side. "I hear you. Go on home and have a nice weekend."

"I want to talk to you for a minute."

"Yeah? Well, I don't want to talk to you."

"Come on. Let me in."

"That's a bad idea," Bobby says roughly. It sounds like he's right beside the door.

"What? Bobby, what the hell is wrong?" Darien whacks the door using both hands, and winces at the streak of pain that has him clutching his injured shoulder. "Aw, crap!"

The door swings open wide; Bobby's eyes are slits in comparison. "Damn it. Get in here."

When Darien enters, Bobby stalks across the room and stays there.

"What's going on with you, man?" Darien asks, hissing in through his teeth, through the hurt.

Bobby folds his arms over his chest. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about whatever's bothering you so much!"

"It doesn't concern you, Fawkes."

"That's bullshit, Hobbes. We're partners, and we're friends. We do for each other."

"No kidding," Bobby sneers.

"No kidding." Darien steps toward Bobby, who retreats further. "For Christ's sake, would you just come over here and tell me what's wrong?"

Before Darien realizes it, Bobby has crossed the room to stand right in front of him, palms to Darien's chest pushing him back against the wall.

"Hey!" Yelping at the impact to his right shoulder makes Darien's cheek hurt, too.

"We're partners, huh?" Bobby pushes him again.

"Yeah --"

"We're friends, huh?" His eyes flashing, Bobby does it again.

"Yeah, Bobby --"

"Then how come, when those goons were firing at you today and I almost didn't get there in time, all I wanted to do once you were safe was this?" Both hands fist in Darien's shirt and yank him down so hard that his knees buckle.

He slides further when Bobby kisses him with equal harshness. Bobby's mouth is a shock of hot urgency against Darien's, his tongue darting between Darien's lips. Then the pressure vanishes, because Bobby leans back, away.

Breathing fast and nowhere near the idea of thinking, Darien grabs him and has to bite back another wince. He grits his teeth. "You're not going anywhere."

Bobby slumps in Darien's grasp. "You want to hit me? Go ahead."

"I don't -- you -- argh!" Darien shakes him a little. He kisses him way more than a little.

With a grunt, Bobby's mouth opens, a whole wet, warm world under Darien's. Darien licks into it, and grins into it when Bobby's arms slide around his waist. Careful to avoid stretching his right arm, Darien holds him more closely. He's been trying for so long not to think about Bobby like this, not to imagine kissing him like this. Even with his knees bent, neck arched, and sore cheek stretched, it feels so good that Darien never wants to stop. And Bobby tastes good, sweet and hot and wet like doughnuts dipped in coffee. Darien is getting hard, and from the shift of Bobby's hips against Darien's, he's not the only one.

Sucking on Bobby's tongue, Darien slides one hand around the back of Bobby's neck. He feels the quicksilver seeping from his fingertips and doesn't try to stop it.

A second later, Bobby jerks back, gasping. "Watch it with that."

Darien grins. "You know you like it."

"Maybe," Bobby says. He shivers free of the cold flakes.

"Want to try a little more?"

Bobby glances down, then up, and narrows his eyes. "Like where?"

"Trust me," Darien says softly.

He unbuttons Bobby's shirt but leaves it framing his chest, and does the same with his own. With a quick reassuring look, he pulls Bobby close, leans against the wall, and kisses him again while he works on unzipping their pants, and pushing both pants and boxers to the floor.

Bobby is stiff at first, holding his body away from Darien's. Darien kisses him more thoroughly without making any other moves. Eventually, Bobby relaxes; the tension in his arms dissipates beneath Darien's hands, but Darien can still feel the strength in his muscles. He can feel how hard Bobby is when he joins their hips. Darien thinks Bobby might freeze up again at that, at their cocks pressing together, but he moves against Darien like it's the most natural thing on the planet. It actually might be -- except the planet must be about a thousand times hotter than Darien thought.

Darien moves his left hand from Bobby's shoulder to his chest. The gland starts pumping, and he drips quicksilver from his fingers over Bobby's nipples.

Bobby twitches, not away but toward him, and his teeth catch on Darien's tongue. He thrusts forward. His cock rubs hard against Darien's.

Swallowing, Darien trails a line of quicksilver from the base of Bobby's throat, down. He lets it slide down, and down, and down, and cups his hand in time to pool it at Bobby's navel before flinging what's left in a vanishing arc across the room. Bobby shivers again. Darien breaks the kiss to murmur, "Bobby? Is this okay?"

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Bobby leans in and mouths Darien's nipple. "You better touch my dick soon, or you won't get to before I come."

Darien jerks at the intensity of Bobby biting down and flicking his tongue. "Uh. Got it. It might not be as good as I want it to, though, 'cause I usually use my right hand."

"Like I said, you can get me off without either hand. The left will be great." Bobby doesn't wait for a response. He cups Darien's chin and takes his mouth again. Bobby's thumb drags over his bandaged cheek, slowly, just until it tingles.

Humming into the kiss, Darien adjusts his stance against the wall and reaches down to wrap his hand around Bobby's cock. He tugs, and Bobby pushes into his grip. Darien tries moving his own cock against Bobby's hip but can't get the angle right. He spreads his fingers to accommodate both of them, Bobby's hot, hard length rubbing along his own.

Bobby groans and thrusts again. His right hand slips behind to palm Darien's ass. His left hand closes around Darien's hand, around them both, and it's good and tight. They pump simultaneously, taking a few strokes to get the right rhythm going, and then it's _amazing_.

The friction and heat are driving Darien crazy in the best way -- nothing like quicksilver madness, because he's with Bobby, they're together, and instead of a frozen stream coursing through him, his blood is a lava flow. He thrusts into their hands again and again. He's really close, but he wants Bobby to come first, wants Bobby to remember that Darien can take care of him, too.

Barely registering the pain in his cheek, Darien kisses Bobby with everything he has. He works his hand up and down, and squeezes it beneath Bobby's. Bobby is so hard, so right. After one more stroke, one twist with Bobby's hand hot and sure around Darien's, Bobby tenses. His come slicks their fingers. He pumps raggedly through it and, lifting his free hand to cup Darien's face, again rubs his thumb over the bandage there.

Darien tilts his head into the caress. Harder and harder, he rocks his hips toward Bobby. He tries to take deep breaths, but the air is sharp and fast as he moans and comes.

Bobby sags into him. They both pant. Darien struggles out of his shirt, wipes their hands with it, and says, "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

There's a moment, in which Bobby doesn't move and doesn't speak, when Darien almost panics that he took things farther than Bobby wanted to go. Then Bobby chuckles. "The Agency should upgrade your license to kill, with those wicked fingers."

"These things?" Darien waggles his hands in the air. "Nah. I use them for good, not evil."

As Bobby grabs one hand and studies it, his eyebrows lift slightly. "They _are_ pretty fantastic, partner. How about you show me what else they can do here this weekend?"

Smiling broadly at each other, they attempt to go straight to bed. One step into the journey, they both trip, because their pants and boxers are still around their ankles. They fix that problem, but Darien can't resist a small whine about his shoulder having hit the floor. Bobby gives him a dark look. Darien catches his eye, nods, and then scrambles for the bedroom.

~

_Roald Dahl didn't say whether or not his character could return things easily, too. But I'd like to think that, if he met Bobby, any fingersmith would give as good as he got._

 

\- end - 


End file.
